


The Perils of Sleeping with a Cat(boy)

by StBridget



Series: Cat Tails [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Catboy Mac, Catboys & Catgirls, Established Relationship, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: There are some interesting side effects when one's lover is a catboy.





	The Perils of Sleeping with a Cat(boy)

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> Just some snippets of life with a catboy. :)

Jack was suffocating.  Fibers invaded his nose and mouth with every breath he attempted.  He struggled to get enough oxygen.  Certain he was going to pass out at any moment, he made one last valiant attempt to draw air into his lungs—

And woke up, gasping.  As the dream fell away, Jack realized his breathing was still obstructed, but by fur, not fiber.  Mac’s tail was draped across his face, again.  Unfortunately, this seemed to be a common occurrence; Jack frequently woke to it tickling his nose or lying across his mouth, causing him to inhale fur any time he took a breath.  No wonder Jack kept dreaming he was suffocating.  With a sigh (and the accompanying intake of fur), Jack shoved Mac’s tail away, only to have it flop back across his face a moment later.  Squirming around, trying to not wake Mac, Jack managed to wedge the catboy’s tail between them where, hopefully, it wouldn’t get in Jack’s face.  Jack really wasn’t surprised, though, when he woke with his alarm to a face full of fur.

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Jack woke to find the other side of the bed empty.  That wasn’t unusual; Mac was far more of a morning person than Jack, frequently rising to take a run while the older man, true to his military heritage, took every opportunity to grab every last minute of sleep he could.  Today, they were in a rundown safe house in Siberia guarding a political radical.  Mac wouldn’t have gone for a run, but he very likely could have gotten up to check on their charge and cook breakfast from their meager stores.

The room was cold, and Jack would much rather stay under what warmth was provided by the threadbare covers, but he knew he needed to get up and do his job.  The soldier gave a full body stretch, but his legs encountered something solid at the foot of the bed.  That was weird.  Jack knew the bed wasn’t that short.  He looked down towards the foot of the bed but didn’t see any obstructions.  On a hunch, Jack peered under the covers.  There at Jack’s feet was Mac, curled into a little ball, one hand covering his face, tail draped across himself for warmth.  Jack sighed.  He shouldn’t be surprised, really.  Due to his cat genes, Mac was a heat seeker, constantly searching out warmth, either through proximity to another body, curling his own to conserve heat, crawling under covers, or all three.  It usually wasn’t a problem in balmy LA, but on missions to cold climates such as this, Mac would seek comfort by crawling under the covers and huddling close to Jack.  Jack supposed it beat the times Mac’s nesting instinct took over, and he would attempt to curl his entire body on Jack’s pillow, whether or not Jack was currently using it.  Then Jack would wake up clinging to a sliver of pillow with a tail draped across his face.

Jack gently nudged the lump at his feet.  “Alright, darlin’, time to get up.”

There was a rustling under the covers, and Mac’s head popped up, fixing Jack with a bright blue gaze.  As usual, despite being woken from a sound sleep, the catboy was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, literally.  “Let’s go.”

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Jack was in a dark, dank room, bound to a chair and gagged.  No one was in sight, but his captors had decided to torture the information out of him.  For some reason, though, instead of the waterboarding that seemed so frequent, they had decided to annoy the information out of him by bombarding him with thousands of tiny pins which bounced off his chest and left little pricks.

Jack jolted awake.  The pinpricks continued.  Jack brushed the ever-present tail out of his face and looked down.  Mac was nestled against his side, half awake and half asleep, claws flexing in and out as he drowsily kneaded his lover’s bare chest (it was a warm night, so Jack had foregone his usual sleep pants and top to sleep in nothing but his boxers), a soft purr emanating from the catboy.  Jack sighed.  That would add more tiny puncture wounds to the multitude in various stages of healing already on his chest.  One of his fellow agents had seen them while Jack was changing his shirt in the locker room and actually had asked what had been used on him.  Explaining they’d been caused by his catboy lover had been very anticlimactic and very embarrassing.

Jack nudged at Mac.  “Darlin’, want to sheath those claws?  They’re kind of sharp.”

“Uh-uh,” Mac muttered, barely coherent.  The pricking continued.

Jack sighed again.  He’d just have to try something else.  Carefully, Jack tugged the sheet up to cover his chest, then gently raised each of Mac’s hands and placed them on the sheet.  The claws still penetrated slightly, but at least there was a buffer now.  Jack pulled Mac tighter against him and kissed the top of the blond head, right between his ears.  Sure, sleeping with a catboy had its perils, but Jack wouldn’t trade it for the world.


End file.
